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poem: wordgrove

December 9, 2005 Leave a comment Go to comments

(water sky trees quiet)
words
are not necessary
but oh so
welcome

In my first year in California, way back when, I spent a lot of time driving the back roads up in the mountains between San Jose and the ocean. One summer day on a dead-end trail high up in the hills, I found an isolated grove of oak trees looking out over the dry grassy valleys below and San Francisco Bay. In the deep shade underneath the huge, old oaks was a large limb close enough to the ground that I could sit on it and lean back comfortably, close my eyes and breathe the toasted oat smell of the hillside around me.

Instantly that grove became my favorite place to get away from the noise and hurry of the Bay Area cities. Often I would bring a book to read on a Saturday afternoon. It was so quiet — the same quiet you get on an Iowa farm when you’re out in the woods half a mile from home, with just the leaves rustling in the breeze and the soft hum of the summer insects.

In one of those unexpected but delightful coincidences, there is a community of poetry & fiction readers & writers that I’m a member of, in an online virtual world. The community is located in a virtual grove of trees, and so is named Wordgrove, with books scattered around ready for a quiet read while your “avatar” (your virtual self) sits on a virtual rock in the virtual shade, near a virtual pond with virtual koi fish and virtual frogs, listening to the songs of virtual birds. This poem is dedicated to both the real and virtual word groves.

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